Jealousy Isn't What It's Cracked Up To Be
by sweet-and-simple
Summary: Or, at least, not with Reborn.  Especially with Reborn!  RL


So when Reborn throws him clear across the marketing block, straight into a fruit stand whose owner curses in three different languages, most prominently Italian, this isn't what Lambo thought would happen.

He doesn't expect to open his eyes with a whimper just to see a gorgeous blonde frowning down at him.

"_Are you okay, little one?" _The lithe male murmurs in fluid Italian, obviously a local.

"… _Now I am." _He takes the offered hand to his feet, smiling like a ditz. _"Thank you…"_

"_What was that just now? Are you an angel?" _The man is obviously teasing, but there's a warmth in his eyes that says that Lambo could be his angel, definitely. _"You just fly in out of nowhere," _he wiggles his eyebrows, still holding Lambo's hand, _"right into my heart."_

Lambo laughs nervously, weaving a hand through his soft black locks. Well, if Mr. Handsome didn't see him be punched by Reborn, who is he to tell him that that was momentum and not grace that made him airborne? _"My oh my, aren't you a charmer?"_

He lets himself bask in the mutual attraction for a long moment, smiling softly and being smiled softly at. Finally, he releases a happy sigh and breaks the hand contact. _"Excuse me, …?"_

"_Bambino," _the man offers.

"… _Baby?"_

"_My mother really isn't qualified for giving names. Tell you what, though, you can call me whatever you want tonight."_

Lambo laughs. Though he knows there's no chance he'll be following this man home, he still rather likes Bambino for trying. He has guts. It never really is easy to guess who's gay on the streets.

The teen bites on his knuckle in somewhat consideration, studying the eye candy from head to toe and then back up.

Pointless flirting on his part, actually. As gorgeous and oncoming as he is, he just isn't Lambo' type.

His type consists of near-death experiences and lifetime chases. Of men who are strong in the face of death and act like assholes in public because they are, well, assholes. Okay, so his type consists of one guy who happens to be the same guy who sent him flying.

"_It was my Aunt who named me," _Lambo admits.

"_Was something wrong with your mother?"_

"_She died in childbirth."_

"_I am sorry."_

"_No need to be." _

They share another smile and Bambino takes a step forward, invading Lambo's personal space. He has to look down so that they can keep eyes. Lambo ponders whether or not this is too close for comfort and then decides that he has had worse. Being a party animal and all, that is.

The owner of the fruit stand is ranting in the background, blocked from getting to Lambo by just the ruins of his career.

"_Do you have a number?" _Bambino purrs, ducking his head so he's talking directly into the teen's ear. _"Or do you want to go straight to my house?" _

That has to be the most straightforward pickup line Lambo has ever heard.

And then something flies through the air, like Lambo had earlier, and collides with Bambino's belly, crashing him into the already decimated fruit stand. He creates a second crater in the produce, eliciting a scream of frustration from the owner.

Lambo stares at the heavy-looking mallet implanted in Bambino's gut. That had definitely not been there a moment ago.

An arm circles his waist and jerks him away from the injured fellow, down the cobbled street and through the crowd of concerned onlookers (where were they when _he_ had been hurt?).

"H-hey! Reborn, what was that for? Goodness, you could have killed him! Hell, I think you might have killed him." He looks up into his lover's raven eyes and Reborn is glaring down at him, something dangerous flashing there in his expression, jaw tight and lips thinly pressed. "What's wrong with you?"

If he didn't know better… he would say that Reborn is _jealous_. And that makes him feel giddy except it isn't likely to be true. Right? Since when does Reborn get jealous? Especially over him?

Reborn's arm tightens around him till he is pressed to his side like another appendage, feeling the pinch of Reborn's belt against his belly. "My hand slipped," he offers stonily, leaving no room for argument.

Lambo blinks and then smiles, slowly and mischievously. "It just… slipped? And when your hand 'slipped', you happened to be holding your one-ton mallet?"

The arm cinches painfully, a hand fisting around his hip and bruising his flesh. "Yes."

"My oh my… I thought you had a good grip."

"Usually."

"How sad… Now I don't think I'm as attracted to you as I once was… You know, seeing as how I was getting hot and heavy over the _best hitman_ in the world… but no self-respecting hitman just lets a one-ton mallet 'slip' from their hand." He nibbles on his bottom lip. "You know, I think Bambino's looking pretty nice for taking that blow…"

"Baby?"

Lambo is about to say that that was his actual name and then pauses because that sinister look is back, raven glare directed at him and his body being pulled impossibly closer. He rests a hand against his cheek instead, feigning bashfulness and even mustering a blush. "Baby."

Reborn shoves him into an alleyway (they're always just conveniently there, aren't they?) and presses him to the brick wall of one building, next to a pile of crates and a stray dog that peers wearily up at them before trotting away. "And why are you calling him _baby_?"

"Didn't you see him? He was _gorgeous_. And definitely into me."

Lips attack his own, hard and velvety, tongue invading his mouth. Something smoky and strong invades Lambo's senses, delicious and addicting, as much a part of him as his skin is, branding him. He gives in without fighting, going limp between the hitman and the wall, hands coming up and around Reborn's shoulders. His fingers weave into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, tipping his fedora towards his forehead.

When they pull apart, Lambo is left breathless and shaken, clinging to Reborn for support as his tongue darts over red and bruised lips. He can still taste Reborn on him…

"I'm better looking." Reborn scowls down at him, looking all big and bad.

Lambo narrows his eyes and focuses really hard. "… Are you _sulking_?"

"I am _the_ most handsome man in the world, the strongest and the most wanted."

"Yada yada, you can boast all you want, but that doesn't change the fact that you are _sulking_!" He gasps. "You're _jealous_!" He hadn't thought it believable. But here it is, the look of an envious lover.

Reborn puts him in a chokehold and ignores his giggled (though he really is in pain) cries for mercy. "I am motherfucking Reborn, I do not get jealous, especially over stupid cows."

He wants to wail about being called a stupid cow, but a part of him (his lungs, more pointedly) is lacking the oxygen required to scream and yet another part of him is bubbling up with laughter, though more internally so because, _again_, he can't breathe.

Reborn is _jealous_.

After some moments, on the edge of consciousness, Reborn at last releases him and he greedily sucks in air, falling against the wall with a choking laugh. "You might not get jealous over _any_ stupid cow…" he manages to hoarsely make out, "but you got jealous over _me._"

Reborn growls and drags him further into the alleyway, on the other side of the crates, and shoves him to the ground where he lands in an ungraceful sprawl. He whimpers as his elbow slaps the ground, curling into his hurt side. Before he has time to cry, though, Reborn slides to his knees between his legs, hands on his knees.

"Say it, one. More. Time." Reborn warns, leaning over Lambo so his breath is warm on Lambo's lips, thick eyelashes feathering over his high-boned cheeks.

Lambo shivers and wets his lips. "You are _jeal-_" his pants are ripped off his hips, his low-ride briefs with them, tangling around his ankles. Reborn raises his knees to his chest and holds them there, a painfully awkward position. His free hand is at his mouth, three fingers being soaked in his saliva, and he is smirking.

It isn't a healthy grin, not a loving or sweetly promising one. It's one that says that Lambo is going to _pay_.

One finger ends up in his ass, drawing a whimper from him. He doesn't feel prepared, which certainly does not warrant the more pleasurable response from his body. But, somehow, through all the discomfort, he somehow feels an overwhelming wave of _euphoria_.

And, goodness, he knows why. Reborn is being so cruel because, _damn_, he's jealous. He is unbelievably envious! And that feels like a victory enough for Lambo to bite into his bottom lip and deal with it.

A second finger and then a third, thrusting and twisting inside his body until he releases a keening cry of bliss, his prostate being struck.

"I am _not_ jealous. I do not need to be jealous over something I know is mine, no questions asked. Because you _are_ mine, this tight little _ass_ is mine, your _body_… is mine. That_ baby _was never going to have you, he never would have been able to make you feel the way I do. You might have made it as far as his house, but then you would have lied there in his bed like a cold fish and we both know it. Because _I'm_ the only man on this earth who can turn you on and that _automatically_ makes you _mine_. Is that understood?"

"Mmmm… no." Lambo sticks his tongue out, eyes sparkling, and kicks the pants and briefs off of his ankles. "I mean, I don't know, maybe he _could_ have turned me on… after all, you're the only lover I've ever had. I'm too _inexperienced_ to know what pleases me."

Reborn's pants come undone and his cock is free from the confines of his boxers, aimed straight and true for Lambo's orifice. The teen can't be sure, but he senses that somewhat of what he just said really pissed the hitman off. And then it hits him.

He makes having only one lover – Reborn – sound like a bad thing. And Reborn's immeasurable pride must not like that.

"I mean, if I had taken him up on his offer, then I'd have something to judge you by. For all I know, you're terrible in the sack." He screams in the next second, feeling his innards being torn in half, hands and toes clenching tightly as Reborn invades him with single-minded purpose.

To punish him.

Reborn waits a moment after impaling the teen, sunk all the way into the hilt, and then withdraws slowly. Lambo releases a ragged breath, gasping through his teeth. He can feel the buckle of Reborn's belt pressing into his one butt cheek, his sac against the curve of his ass, his hot, hard length pushing right back into him. In and out, in and out, _in_ and _out_ till Lambo forgets that pain is a bad thing and that pleasure this good should be illegal.

The hitman is taking him by storm, dominating him. His hands are on his body, teasing his nipples and gracing his member, caressing his skin and then settling with squeezing around his throat, hips snapping against Lambo's backside, lewd slapping noises resonating in the alleyway as they meet brutally.

Lambo claws uselessly at the fists, eyes rolling into the back of his head. _Okay, not cool_. He tries to tolerate, but the tears roll down his cheeks nonetheless and he wonders, longer than he would have wanted to, if Reborn will really kill him this time.

Goodness, had he thought that being called jealous would affect Reborn this much, he wouldn't have gone so far! Alright, so he had thought it was cute and that Reborn was finally showing some sense as a lover, but, apparently, he was wrong.

Reborn is glaring down at him with ashy hellfire, teeth bared in a grimace, a bead of sweat rolling from the rim of his fedora down his cheek to drip from his jaw. "Let's try this again," he somehow manages to speak around his thrusts that are full-length each time. "I was _not_ jealous… and you _are_ mine. You don't _need_ another lover to compare me to. Do you understand?"

Lambo isn't in any position to be answering any question. He's almost certain he's seeing the rumored light at the end of the tunnel and he thinks he even sees his grandma and aunt blushing from there, as if they can see through his last moments to what his last moments consist of. Finally, though, Reborn loosens his grip and Lambo somehow manages to gasp and then whimper with a sudden batch of new air, unsure if it actually reaches his lungs before he expels it on a scream. Reborn is striking his prostate, flashing beautiful and bright bliss throughout his entire body.

And then he stops, right there. He is pressed flush to Lambo's prostate, hands still braced around his neck, and his glower is deadly.

It takes longer than it should have for Lambo to remember the question – or, ah, _demand_, really. "I-I und-derstand…"

"I don't believe you."

"I understand!" He just wants Reborn to keep _moving_… which makes him feel so psychotic because he should be wanting Reborn to get the hell off of him and never come near him again after nearly _choking_ him to death over something as petty as _envy_.

"I'm not feeling it."

"I'm yours, you stupid, motherfucking, bastard Reborn! I'm yours, yours, yours! I was never planning on having sex with him, I didn't even want to, I just thought he looked cute and that it felt nice to be treated _kindly_ for a change! NOW SCREW ME!" He finishes his scream with a demand of his own, head thrashing from side to side as he tries to force a pace that Reborn denies by remaining stonily still. "W-why won't you screw me?"

The hitman is gouging him with his stare, as if weighing the truth of his words. Mercifully, he begins to move again, apparently pleased with whatever truth he found, and his thrusts are painful even as they are fulfilling. Lambo can feel Reborn up to his throat (or maybe that's just the bruises) and howls his pleasure, hands scrabbling in the cloth of Reborn's shoulders. His body arches off the alley floor.

When he comes, _thank god_, and Reborn comes afterwards, a little too late afterwards, leaving Lambo in pain, Lambo is left to wilt into the grit and dirt of the ground, panting and covered in their juices.

Reborn, who is already standing and pristine in appearance, pulls a black marker out of his pocket. He leans down and writes something on the teen's forehead, him being too tired and defeated to fight.

The hitman pulls away, obviously pleased with himself. "I'm sure you can clean up after yourself, right, cow?"

He somehow manages to flip the bastard off.

Reborn sniggers in response. "Ciao ciao… _honey_."

And Lambo ponders, _really_, is a jealous Reborn such a great thing?

Later, when he somehow makes his way free of the alleyway and looks somewhat presentable, passing civilians stare at his forehead as if a filthy curse is written there. Lambo has to imagine that, just maybe, there is. Because this is _Reborn_ they're talking about! The man knows no boundaries.

He rushes home and to his room, faster than anyone can catch a glimpse of him, and then stares into the mirror. He stares and stares and stares…

At last, he screams. "REBORN, YOU JEALOUS, POSSESSIVE, ABUSIVE ASSHOLE!"

On his forehead, in Italian, a message reads: _'Fucked by Reborn, touch at your own risk'._ Signed beneath it with a smile face that looks faintly like the late Leon, is Reborn's signature.

That liar had definitely been jealous.

_Author's Note: Breebree811 wanted a jealous Reborn and this was born! I think I'm going to have to give her prompt a second shot, though… Bambino is Italian for baby, just in case anyone was confused._


End file.
